Girls Night: Tell Me How You Feel About The State of Your Cardiovascular System and Other Questions


I have that kind of friends that will crawl into your sauna of an apartment on a Friday night to build a blanket fort. I’ve realized that this is the one true secret to becoming an adult. You must work twice as hard to stay a child. We’re told that the whole point of this nonsense is to become an adult. We’ve got it all wrong. The whole point of this nonsense is to stay childlike. So we built a fort. I can take absolutely none of the credit because as an architect I rate somewhere around a 32% which as I’ve learned in college, means you may not take the next course in the series. I’m the clip holder, the clip hander, the blanket holder-upper. I’m the one that retrieves snacks from the too-bright part of the room not shackled by fun.

As the night went on I realized, perhaps as fault of the 9% pfriem double IPA, that I wanted to ask my friends questions about sex. I’ve had this amazing idea for the last couple of weeks that I would interview my friends about sex and love and ask really complicated questions that force them to open up in new and exciting ways. After my first few interviews, I realized that all of my friends are impossibly sex positive. I just can’t throw them. But I also wasn’t really digging in to questions that mattered. I wasn’t nervous,  I just felt like I was stuck. If I ask really ridiculous questions, how will the interview flow properly? Won’t it just sound like I’m being… a dick? Tell me about the time someone ripped your heart out and how long did you cry for and can you describe using only American Currency what your last STD looked like? 

So I sat down on the floor and grabbed a pen and I started asking them, these patient people, basically doing my work for me, what questions they would ask. What followed cannot be transcribed but I’ll briefly try to set the scene. A handful of girls. Cups of all shapes and sizes with champagne and lipstick stains. A hollowed fort. The gentle voice of Drake, starting from the bottom. And a strange solemnness of people who had somehow all experienced such extraordinary heartbreak that it was somewhat puzzling that they were still physically present.

That’s the thing about heartbreak, you expect there to be some kind of physical remnant of it. This isn’t a fort, it’s a barracks, and we’re soldiers of love. The girl to my left only has one leg. The girl across from me is holding in her long intestine with one of the clips we didn’t need for the fort. My spinal cord makes a sound like electrical wires, alive, dashing across the highway. We’re all screaming, the entire time, a guttural agony. In sync. Except when we stop to share. And the sharing becomes the bandage. And the wounds start to slowly disappear. And we’re all pink lipstick and champagne and we fall asleep, again, every night, until that chance to scream together comes yet again. Perhaps this is being a woman. You are never really alone.

So I mean, it was like, a super awesome night and we watched Clueless which was totally fab. Stay tuned for interviews, but first, I think, I’ll share the questions we came up with. Because the questions themselves are the breathing soul of an interview, and sometimes it’s just enough to have the questions.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Khai says:


    That’s… That’s fucking beautiful and it hurts


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